Motherhood..."That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger..." (umm...right?!)

Saturday, 12 May 2007

"Uh...Dada?"

"Uh Dada?.......I've got a stinky turd in my nappy. "

This is how we were woken up this morning. I must say, my almost three year old son is at least polite if not potty-trained.

"Please Dada. It is stinky and disgusting and no one likes it. Please change my nappy."

With such well-reasoned logic it was hard not to oblige, so Jay dutifully did the deed before setting him loose downstairs and falling back into bed. Last night was a late one. A big Poker tournament with friends and family which resulted in Auntie Ba walking away with the £60 pot. Way to go Auntie Ba you card shark. Around a table full of bullying boys it was refreshing to see that unlike life, the nice don't always finish last!

Noah is going through a hilarious stage at the moment whereby he's not actually crawling, but rather sneakily maneovers himself around like a fat little slug. No one actually sees him move, but if you put him down, moments later you'll look up and he'll be on the other side of the room. Most peculiar! He's taken to biscuits (Arrowroot cookies) like a true A-K/Johnston and can hoover one up in 2 minutes flat....despite having no teeth.

Noah can most often be found hanging precariously off his rocker chair, balancing on his not unsubstantial tummy, and reaching out to play with the magnetic 'word whammer' on the fridge. A game which it took ages for Egg to master, little Dumpie does with ease at nearly 6 months. He only really gets frustrated when a piece slides under the fridge, and then he lets out a disgruntled wail until we retrieve it for him, at which point he smiles happily up at us and resumes his game with pleasure for another long while.

This morning, Egg sits here at the kitchen table gobbling up homemade bran muffin (he's on his second) whilst Jay stands playing his beloved black Fender (vintage electric guitar) and Egg claps along happily. Jay can hardly wait until his boys are old enough to be in a band with him. I don't have the heart to tell him that when that happens he will too desperately uncool for it to be a real possibility. They'll steal his instruments and replace him with a 16 year hooligan and that dream shall die a quick death.

It's a bit of a moody day today...sunny but breezy....and we have no solid plans. Auntie Ba just rang and is offerring to treat us all to a big Perdoni's brunch funded by last nights winnings, but we may just go on a mammoth walk round London town and get up to no good.

The relief of having another pair of hands for the next two days brings tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. I actually managed a bath this morning! Life is good...

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ABOUT ME...

I am a well-intentioned but frequently disillusioned wife and mother, cathartically blogging about the daily frustrations of raising three(!) boys (Egg 12, Dumpie 10, and Squitty 'the baby' 5...) whilst trying to forge a career in music.
As a frustrated artist, domestic slave, and hardcore fashionista , life is a constant struggle of trying not to lose the plot whilst keeping a sense of self.
Throw in a husband who also refuses to "grow up", wonderfully dysfunctional family and friends, and you get a shambolic household that shouldn't work - but somehow does.
These domestic adventures and random observations of the world at large (fueled in part by excessive daily intake of chocolate and caffeine) are contained herein. Welcome to my world...